


Exit Left, Pursued By A Bear

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Gladiolus Amicitia is a Sweetheart, M/M, Oblivious Noctis Lucis Caelum, Pre-Canon, References to Shakespeare, With Apologies to Shakespeare, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Gladio has been nursing a crush on Noctis for a few months, and he's been trying to pull quotes from classic literature in vain hopes of pulling at Noctis' heartstrings. However, all he's really finding in return is a strong indicator that Noctis hasn’t been paying attention in his Lucian Classic Literature class.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 82





	Exit Left, Pursued By A Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to Gladio! It's about time I wrote something from his perspective!
> 
> Special thanks to [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule) for beta reading! 
> 
> Apologies to Shakespeare. Citations in the end notes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Exit Left, Pursued By A Bear**

Clarus had told Gladio that a man gets to know another best on the field of battle, that a man could only truly come to know another when they clashed. Gladio rather understood the appeal. He and his father often had some of their best talks after spars, when Clarus would truly share all of his insight and wisdom. 

However, Gladio felt like he understood people, as a whole, better through the filter of books, through fiction: words, words, words. He was a people person, he could talk to anyone, but learning about people he could never really meet lit a fire in his soul. 

Then again, there were people who Gladio was certain he would never understand, people he met daily, both in combat and in conversation. Noctis was and always would be a little bit of an enigma.

Honestly, Gladio kind of liked it anyway. He liked that Noctis didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, that he could be so staunch even when he felt deeply. He liked how hard Noctis tried to impress him, and he loved Noctis’ smile, when he earned it. He loved a lot about Noctis, enough that as they parried their way around the Glaive's training arena, their practice swords clashing as Noctis dodged and taunted clever circles around him, that his heart beat a little faster from more than exertion.

“You won’t catch me moving like that,” Noctis chuckled as he knocked Gladio’s swing up and back, then dodged, his form a blue blur. Gladio grinned as he traced his movements, from the long trails of their footprints in the dust and Noctis' keen eyes picking his next trajectory.

“And you won’t escape me like that!” He stepped in, long legs making up for Noctis’ short-distance warp, but Noctis pitched the sword over his shoulder and warped up into the rafters, then dropped down and flung himself through midair to the ring behind Gladio. Gladio’s heart skipped a beat - damn, he’d gotten good! Gladio pivoted around and charged towards Noctis, but Noctis warped right past him again. “Come on, show me what you’re made of.”

Gladio spun about again, grinning wildly. “Tempt not a desperate man!”

Noctis stopped cold, and Gladio’s block met nothing as he jerked back, completely taken off-guard. “What was that?”

And there lay the problem, Gladio mused as he relaxed. “Come on, if you’re gonna tease me, I’m gonna tease you back.”

Noctis never seemed to be really listening to him, and Gladio didn’t want to spook him by coming on too strong. With romance, like in a friendly spar, being too direct was the fastest way for someone to screw up and get hurt.

“Weird way to tease.” Noctis dismissed his practice sword, still eyeing Gladio warily. “You been reading those weird books again?”

“They’re not weird, and I’ve always got a new book.” Gladio rolled his eyes. “You really quitting on me over this?”

“No, it’s just, y’know. Time,” Noctis muttered vaguely. “See you later, man.” He turned on his heel and hustled for the changing room, and Gladio heaved a sigh.

“Exit left,” he announced to the empty training room with a flourish, then shuffled over to where he’d left his bag on the sidelines to get a gulp of water. It’d give Noctis a moment to get out of the changing room before things could get awkward again. He guzzled some water, feeling the heat fade from his face, then stood up and stretched his arms and legs out, ignoring the soft footfalls of Ignis’ approach.

“No luck on the romance front today, I take it?” Ignis, sly and knowing, said it in a way that wasn’t exactly a question, just punctuated to puncture Gladio’s heart.

Gladio groaned. “Not even a little.”

Gladio tried to stay on top of Noctis’ college schedule. He knew Noctis was doing a lot of the gen ed coursework in his freshman semester, but he had enjoyed the liberal arts part of his degree, himself. This semester, Noctis was studying one of Gladio’s favorite third century playwrights, Lord Avon, in his “Lucian Classic Literature” 100-level course. However, whenever Gladio tried to drop a romantic hint at Noctis, lifting motifs and quotes out of some of Lord Avon’s best-known works to give him a clue, all Gladio got in return was a strong indicator that Noctis hadn’t been paying attention in class.

“Gotta say, didn’t think he’d be quite this dense about it.” Gladio smiled with helpless affection as he turned towards Ignis, who looked far too buttoned-up to be in the ring with him. “I’m not gonna give up ‘til I get a straight ‘no,’ but still.”

Ignis laughed in return. “Patience is a virtue. However, if he’s noticed, he hasn’t confided as much to me.” Then, he patted Gladio on the back, regardless of the perspiration forming dewdrops between his shoulders. “After all, he is lovely, and therefore to be wooed; he is your Prince, and therefore to be won.”

Gladio laughed aloud, his voice ringing around the empty arena, but went to scoop up his training bag. “Yeah? Well, hopefully next time I can pull a victory out of the jaws of defeat next time.” He followed Ignis out of the training arena, already trying to think of more ways he could drop the hint. 

* * *

Gladio could handle his crush on Noctis. He’d done it since Noctis first hit seventeen and started looking more like a real man. He had done it since Noctis lost some of his gangliness and built up a little muscle and a little more attitude and the feelings got stronger, and had persevered since Noctis had really matured and started acting a little more like a Prince while still being the proud, stubborn brat Gladio had once hated but had learned to appreciate. He had his crush _handled,_ like luggage: a little heavy, but fine as long as he kept it close.

He could handle game night.

He, Prompto, Noctis, and Ignis were playing a few rounds of Mako Kart, and Noctis was having a surprisingly good night. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been so surprising, since Ignis and Prompto, still enjoying a new relationship and feeling out all the corners of their new romance, seemed to spend more time not-so-subtly flirting and making bad puns over Noctis’ shoulder than pressing the accelerator. For his part, Gladio kept getting distracted by Noctis’ soft grunts of effort as he poured himself into the turns and tore down the virtual track.

Gladio wasn’t letting Noctis win, but his heart thudded a little harder as Noctis claimed victory, head held high, grinning to himself as his character celebrated on-screen. 

He had it bad. It was getting too heavy. He really needed to do something about it.

“I see you’ve taken the trophy in this,” Ignis remarked as he applauded politely. “But I fear that your homework will be your only real reward.”

Prompto gasped and checked his watch. “Oh man, it’s that late already? Man, Iggy, your internal clock must be _good as gold._ ” Despite his despondency, Prompto still managed to wink at Ignis. Noctis just grunted, this time with disgust.

“Come on, Ignis.”

“I’m afraid you’re the one who must come on, as I know you’ve homework for your Lucian Classics course.” Ignis turned the game system off. “Prompto, unfortunately I must stay and assist Noctis, but may I see you get to the bus stop safely?”

“Ooh, yeah, sure!” Prompto slapped Noctis on the back. “Sorry, buddy, I have homework too.”

“Bring it with you next time.” He shot Ignis a look. “Maybe if Iggy’s distracted helping you, he’ll get off my ass.”

Gladio just snorted as he got to his feet. “Believe me, he’d rather be on Prompto’s ass than yours.”

“Gladiolus,” Ignis rebuked, as he ushered Prompto to the door with an arm around his shoulder. “But if you wish to bring your homework tomorrow…” 

Whatever he said after that was meant for Prompto, and Noctis let out a sigh as Ignis escorted Prompto out. He rolled his eyes, gaze landing on Gladio. “Guess you’re leaving too?”

“I probably ought’a.” Gladio sighed as he got to his feet. “If it’s for Lucian Classics, I’ll just give you all the answers.”

“Please stay,” Noctis replied flatly, and Gladio laughed.

“You wish, kid. You’re gonna earn it, I can’t do it for you.” He shot Noctis a cheeky wink. “Not unless you want to give me your diploma!” He got up to his feet and started pulling his shoes on. Noctis followed him to the door, rocking on his heels.

“Guess I should ask. I wanted some extra training. I could use a little extra practice using magic and my sword in tandem.” Noctis crossed his arms, obviously trying not to feel insecure. “If you got time tomorrow, I’d like to work on it, maybe a few spars with you?” 

“That’s earning your gains.” Gladio’s heart felt warm all over again at the notion of Noctis _wanting_ to train more with him. “I got an hour at four tomorrow afternoon. I was just going to be floating with the Glaive training, but if you need me, well… the very instant I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.” 

Noctis’ face blanked, eyes wide, voice even flatter: “What?”

Gladio sucked his cheeks in. That landed like a dart thrown by a blind man. 

“What? I said I got you at four.”

“Heard that part.” Noctis opened the door. “Goodnight.”

Gladio didn’t let himself look at him as he left, and flinched as the door shut abruptly behind him.

“Smooth, Gladio,” he muttered to himself, scrubbing his hair back from his face and trudging for the exit.

He’d find the right way to catch Noctis, one way or another.

* * *

Gladio didn’t help Noctis with his college coursework, but that didn’t mean Noctis wouldn’t gripe and moan about it to him at every opportunity. 

“So, Lucian History is some bullshit,” Noctis griped one afternoon after training, toweling off his hair and the back of his neck on the bench at the edge of the arena. Gladio had taken his shirt off to cool down, fanning himself as he knelt by his bag. “Seems like every King before my dad had something wrong with him. I actually learned about one I wanted to bring up with you.”

“Yeah?” Gladio raised an eyebrow, then offered Noctis his water bottle. “It’s been a few years since I took Lucian History, refresh my memory.”

“Argus Lucis Caelum the 76th, the Forthright.” Noctis drew his knees to his chest, dusty tennis shoes planted on the bench. His fingers fidgeted with the bottle’s cap, not opening it but not offering it back. “Apparently he was kind of a jackass, basically robbed from the people to fund his pet projects, was kind of a dick to everyone, killed people who disagreed with him. His Shield tried to temper him, to stop him, and finally raised a rebellion against him. He had to kill his King because his King wouldn’t listen.” He bit his lip, and Gladio knit his brow up.

“You’re not like that, Noct.”

“I don’t think I am. I want to be a good King for my people someday. Still, if I miss it, or if I’m messing up that badly…” His face fell, mouth tight, and Gladio watched his throat work for a moment, before he spat out, “Just talk to me, alright?” 

“Hey.” Gladio shifted forward onto a knee, leaning in to look up at Noctis. “Come on, man, you know you’re nothing like that. I ain’t gonna lie, I got my doubts about you as a King sometimes, but you’re growing and learning, and you’re a good person. You’ve got a good heart.” He put a hand on Noctis’ leg. “You won’t hurt your people. You’re good, Noct.”

Noctis shut his eyes tight, and Gladio faintly realized that this thought had been weighing on him heavier than he’d let on. He squeezed Noctis’ leg and smiled. “Seriously. You’ll be a good King, Noct. I trust you.” He leaned in, seizing the moment and bowing his head: “Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar-”

“Gladio?” Noctis sounded confused and frustrated. The moment cracked and fell apart as Noctis jerked away. “You’re being weird.”

Gladio sputtered, then sat back. “Hey, I’m just trying to make you feel better!”

“Whatever.” Noctis jumped to a stand, gathered his bag in his arm, and stalked off to the locker room, brushing past Ignis and bumping his shoulder. Ignis glanced at Noctis as he passed, then approached Gladio, face slipping into a smirk.

“Love hath made thee a tame snake.”

Gladio snarled and threw his towel at Ignis. “I’m trying, okay?!” Ignis caught the towel easily, as Gladio scooped up his training bag with a frustrated huff. “I’m trying to show him, but - I’m trying not to be too forward!”

“I fear you may need to be to catch Noct’s attention.” Ignis winked but flanked Gladio as he stalked to the changing room. “He’s rather oblivious, you know that. He didn’t realize Prompto and myself were interested in one another until he saw Prompto give me a kiss goodnight.” Ignis patted his own cheek, pink dusting his face as he too-obviously reminisced. Gladio just grunted, gripping his bag and walling back jealousy.

“What am I supposed to do, beat it into him?!” He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, and Ignis gingerly patted his sweaty arm. 

“Keep trying. You're not the type to throw in the towel.” He dangled Gladio’s sweat-damp towel before him. “Evidence aside.”

Gladio groaned, but kept walking, kept thinking. He just found it hard not to think about Noctis’ vulnerable face when he’d thought he was one breath away from convincing him.

* * *

Gladio was sure his frustration with not making progress with Noctis was coming through, in one way or another. He was grouchier in the morning after his latest failure, grumbling at his alarm and brushing his teeth furiously, skulking around the house until Iris noticed and tugged his face into a smile.

“Cheer up, Gladdy!” She yanked the corners of his cheeks, knocking the toast he had been tearing chunks out of away from his mouth. “I don’t know why you’re all pouty. It can’t be all that bad!” 

Gladio grunted, grabbed his dropped toast, and let his mouth fall back into a sulk. He didn’t want to burden Iris with his troubles; not when she was nursing her own hopeless little crush on Noctis.

That day at training, Gladio was rougher on Noctis than he meant to be: he wasn’t pulling his punches, he stepped into his swings more than he usually would. Noctis, however, either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. The first time Noctis got sent stumbling, he grinned wildly and warped right past Gladio to the opposite wall, and Gladio barely had time to pivot before Noctis was swinging at him from behind. 

Gladio dodged, and Noctis landed with a roll, then jumped up, that same grin glinting across the arena. “You’re being serious now!” Gladio’s heart skipped a beat as Noctis took stance again. “Fine, I can do serious.” He warped around, but Gladio tracked him this time and blocked the next strike.

“Yeah?” Gladio threw him back. “Then come at me. You’re not going to touch me today.” He grinned back, flames stoking in his heart as Noctis stood bold and ready to fight. Gladio summoned up his shield in one hand, sword ready in the other, and stood ready.

Noctis swung, and vanished.

Gladio stepped carefully as he traced Noctis’ path around the pillars and rafters, lifting his shield each time Noctis aimed a strike at him. Noctis bounced off, rolled back, then launched again. Gladio admired how quickly Noctis jumped up, redirected, kept coming at him. He had so much spirit when he wanted to show it, and he loved seeing that spirit bloom like a dahlia.

However, for all of Noctis’ spirit, Gladio knew Noctis still couldn’t hold a candle to his skill. 

“Come on, Noct, I’m gonna start swinging back!” He readied his sword, and watched keenly as Noctis struck a pillar and braced his heel against the side.

“Go ahead! There’s no way you’ll catch me!”

“Maybe,” Gladio agreed, already watching Noctis’ face and eyes (like he ever wanted to look away from them), heart pounding, blood hot, and pinned Noctis’ next vantage: he was going to go for the pillar on the opposite side of the room, then target him from behind. “But the stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch!” Noctis launched, and Gladio pivoted, pulling his shield back and swinging to catch Noctis’ strike. He knocked Noctis back to the ground, then pointed his sword at Noctis’ throat, concluding: “Which hurts and is still desired.”

Noctis’ eyes were wide as he stared up at Gladio, chest heaving as the effort caught up with him, and he scuttled back on his hands, dropping his sword. “Hey,” he panted, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Gladio realized just how excited he’d gotten, and played it off, grinning, “If you didn’t want me to kick your ass, you’d watch it a little more carefully, is all I’m saying.”

“Whatever! You’ve been so weird, what the hell is up with you?” Noctis moaned as he rolled to his feet, and Gladio froze up. Shit, Noctis _was_ noticing something, he just didn’t know what yet. 

Before Gladio could come up with some prevarication or excuse, Noctis made a pained noise. “Whatever,” he repeated, more pained now, “I’m done for today. I’m getting a shower.” He skulked off quickly, limping, and Gladio winced as he realized he might have done some serious damage, both to Noctis and to whatever feelings he might have about them. Noctis vanished into the locker rooms, and Gladio heaved a sigh and dropped to sit on the ground, dismissing his weapons and putting his face in his hands. 

There were footsteps behind him, and then a thin, lithe hand on his shoulder. “Cupid is a knavish lad,” Ignis said in a deliberately neutral voice, “thus to make ardent Shields go mad.”

“Shut up.” Gladio groaned and flopped onto his back, and Ignis smiled - _smirked,_ the smug know-it-all - and went to the locker room to bring Noctis his brace, leaving Gladio alone and pining.

“I'm really gonna lose my mind.”

* * *

Gladio got a text the next afternoon from Noctis:

_N: You busy?_

It was a relief that Noctis was still willing to talk to him, and Gladio flipped his book shut to text back.

_G: Getting ready for drills tomorrow morning. You need something?_

Gladio watched his phone for a moment, until Noctis’ response popped up:

_N: I want to hit the arcade but Prompto’s got a shift at the convenience store and Iggy said no. You want to come with?_

Gladio couldn’t stop a fond smile - the brat still liked him enough to want to be around him, even if he was Noctis’ last choice.

_G:_ ~~_I would not wish any companion in the world but you_ ~~

_Cool, there in twenty to grab you._

_N: Thanks big guy_

Gladio tucked his phone away and went to lace his boots and comb his hair, knowing it wasn’t really a date but, honestly, it was enough for his lonely heart just to be around Noctis for a little while.

Gladio picked up Noctis in front of his apartment. He was dressed down and wearing a hoodie to ineffectually hide his famous face, but Gladio knew that if he puffed his chest out and held his shoulders back, nobody would dare touch Noctis. They played a couple dozen rounds of the most recent edition of _SQUARE CIRCLE FIGHTERS_ , shared some sodas, and laughed and ribbed each other. It was nice. It was relaxing to spend a little time with Noctis where they were only trying to rip each other’s heads off using virtual robots. 

Gladio didn’t try to pull any lines on him. Noctis didn’t ask about the previous instances. It was nice.

Noctis was running out of tokens when his phone chimed with an email, and as Gladio dug out his wallet to make more change, Noctis checked it. Gladio heard him groan and glanced over to see Noctis slouching over his phone, but already typing an email response. He leaned over, as if trying to peer at the screen. “Something up?”

“My Lucian Lit professor.” Noctis clicked his tongue and shoved his phone away. “I botched a paper, missed a due date by a few days. Ignis told me to ask Dr. Stratford if there was anything I could do to make up for the grade, get some extra credit. She says she wants me to go to a local performance of one of Lord Avon’s lesser-known plays and do an analysis of the performance.”

Gladio sputtered. “Just like that?! Does she know the security concerns involved with you going to a public theatre?!”

“Chill out, it’s Wednesday after next, we got time.” He raised an eyebrow at Gladio. “You like Avon, don’t you?”

Gladio snorted to cover up a sputter. “I mean, yeah. Guy was a huge talent with a way with words that was before his time. I’m a lit enthusiast, so, duh.”

Noctis scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t get anything out of them. They’re so boring, and all the words don’t mean anything to me anymore without translations on the other page. Who care what some guy wrote about in the third century, anyway?” Noctis shoved his phone away. “But maybe if you come with me, you’ll actually enjoy it.” He looked up at Gladio, stormy blue eyes flitting up to Gladio’s face. “You wanna come with? I need a security detail anyway, so…”

Gladio felt that familiar flutter in his heart, and smiled. “Well, to quote Lord Avon himself: I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes - and moreover, I will go with thee to the theatre.”

Noctis groaned like a deflating inflatable unicorn and put his face in his hands. “You’re such a nerd. I’m gonna get some more game tokens.” He sulked off, leaving Gladio in his wake.

Gladio’s heart was still thudding but for some reason, it hurt a little more than usual.

* * *

Gladio had thought of what he might do with Noctis once he’d snared him (or, rather, passed the tethers around his own heart into Noctis’ hands). He had mostly figured it would be a lot like how they conducted themselves now. They would hang out at Noctis’ place, sneak in pizza delivery when Ignis was busy, still spar and train together, go to the arcade together, but whatever they did, it could just be a little closer. Maybe Noctis would hold his hand when they were watching a movie together, lean his head on his shoulder. Maybe there’d be kissing. Gladio kind of really liked kissing, and he loved the thought of Noctis’ wide mouth and smooth lips against his cheek, on his forehead, on his mouth, on his neck. They could work on more than that. 

He had thought that taking Noctis to a theatre might be fun. He liked watching plays or performances. He thought there was something nice about sitting in the private balconies that Ignis or his uncle would arrange for royalty or nobility, all but privately watching a live performance and sharing that experience intimately with someone special, and nobody was more special than Noctis.

However, he had not anticipated Noctis slouching, bored, in the deep theatre chair, elbow on the arm and chin planted firmly in his palm, sulking and scowling through a performance of _“A Winter’s Tale.”_

“This is the worst,” he grumbled, and Gladio rolled his eyes. Noctis had been stonefaced and unmoved at the tragedy of the queen unfairly accused by her king, the king’s loyal servant sent away, the king’s tragedy, the lost princess adopted to be a shepherdess, and now even the beginning of the turnaround was getting nothing from him. He didn’t even laugh at what was basically the best-known stage direction in the literary canon! (And that bear costume had been on point!) It seemed like Noctis was just going to sit through the last two acts, impassively staring with eyes glazed over, completely unmoved by the words of the most well-beloved, renowned bard in history.

“I don’t get it at all,” Noctis muttered after a beat of silence.

“What don’t you get?” Gladio would have been more annoyed at missing some of the fourth act if he hadn’t had most of the play memorized. 

“Everything.” Noctis slid down in his chair. “Like, why is it called _‘A Winter’s Tale_?’ It doesn’t happen just in winter, there was, like, a ten-year time skip.”

“Sixteen,” Gladio grumbled, “and if you’d been paying attention, then you would have heard the Prince Mamillus say ‘a sad tale’s best for winter.’ It was in the first Act.”

Noctis made a noncommittal noise. “Alright, but, all the flowery language doesn’t mean anything to me. Like, at least when I read it, they have the annotations and stuff on the other page!”

Gladio huffed, but crossed his arms. “Sometimes you just have to infer. Take what you know and interpret." He motioned to the players on the stage. "The language is half of it, but the rhythm and flow say a lot, the emotions, their faces. Or, once you know the characters, you can understand. Like Camillo there, longing to return home, to his King...” He gestured to the actor as he stepped aside to give his soliloquy, and recited along:

“Now were I happy, if his going I could frame to serve my turn, save him from danger, do him love and honor…” He paused, swallowing, and muttered, "He knows his King is lonely after what happened, he wants to go back to him, even if his King, who's repentant now, might still scorn him..."

"Gladio?"

Gladio stopped cold, as he realized Noctis was staring at him intently. "That… the way you're saying it… it sounds like…" His eyes were wide, horror or anger, and Gladio quickly shuttered his eyes and clammed his mouth shut.

Noctis had figured it out. And he wasn't happy.

It wasn't a 'no' but it was enough.

Gladio hurried to his feet. "You know what, I'm just going to stand guard outside." He strode out, shoulders back and chest out, in vain hopes that nobody could see his heart breaking. 

He stood steadfast outside the door next to the other Crownsguard supervising this outing without saying a word through the entire last act, doing his best to recall every verse and line between telling himself: _you knew he might not want you back._

Noctis emerged in the middle of the curtain call, face pinched. He didn't say anything to Gladio either, and the car ride home was spent in virtual silence but for the rumble of the motor and Noctis texting up a storm, gaze fixed to his phone screen and never even flickering towards Gladio. 

Gladio supposed he deserved that, for pretending he could be the romantic hero and not the Gods-damned fool.

* * *

That night, Gladio buried his sorrows in a book and a glass of whiskey in the leather-scented comfort of the Amicitia manor library. He’d hoped to be left alone to ignore and suppress his misery, but it was not to be. Two chapters and three glasses of whiskey in, Clarus strolled by the door, groaning and rolling his shoulders. He stopped short as he passed by the aperture. "Gladiolus."

"Dad." Gladio raised his glass to him and gave the liquid a slosh. Clarus chuckled through his nose and slinked in.

"Theatre outing with his Highness went that well, did it?"

Gladio gave a grunt that would likely be indicative enough, and Clarus chuckled again. 

"Well, whatever happened, I'm certain you can work it out on the battlefield." He clapped Gladio's shoulder. "Sometimes words can only get a man so far." Gladio didn’t look up at him, but Clarus withdrew and turned for the door. "I’ll leave you be. Have a good night."

"Night, Dad." Gladio sighed and turned the page. His phone chose just then to buzz, and Gladio glanced over to see a message from Ignis:

_“Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.”_

Gladio sneered, opened the message long enough to make sure it registered as "Read," then put his phone on silent and threw it into an empty chair across the room. 

Some things couldn't be solved with words or even a good fight, but Gladio hoped time could help. He would just dilate that time with distraction until he could deal.

* * *

Gladio entered the training arena the next day, bracing himself for training with Noctis. He’d planned to do a long, long set of stretches and exercise to get his mind on his work first, bury himself in the physical so he could ignore his heart a little easier.

However, when he walked out onto the dusty training grounds, he saw Noctis waiting for him in the center of the ring - half an hour early, dressed in his training clothes, arms crossed tight and a difficult expression in place. Gladio felt a frown crease his face as he approached, but bolstered his resolve. He would treat this like any day. He would just move on. He was going to be with Noctis for the rest of his life one way or another, he might as well just bite the bullet now.

He rolled his shoulders back and put his chest forward, the same way he had the previous afternoon, as if his pectoral muscles could shield his heart from another blow, and he stood firm in front of Noctis and put a smirk on. “Well, glad to see you on time. You need to warm up first?”

Noctis stared at him, po-faced, then lifted a hand. “We’re… we’re not going to talk about yesterday?”

“Nothing to talk about.” Gladio forced himself to shrug. “Let’s just get to work.”

Noctis heaved a sigh, hanging his head a little. “The course of true love never did run smooth,” he muttered, and Gladio’s defenses shattered like he’d taken a direct blow.

“What?”

“I said,” Noctis started in a mumble, then recited louder: “Hear my soul speak! The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service!” Gladio suppressed a shiver as Noctis looked him right in the eye, storm-blue eyes alight with fury and despair. Everything was too clear, and the moment didn’t feel real. “I said, I did not study Lord Avon with Specs and Prompto for six hours last night so you could pretend you haven’t been quoting his romantic parts at me for the last two weeks!”

Gladio chewed the inside of his mouth and dodged Noctis’ gaze as he paced towards Gladio, clearly straining to keep his voice under control as he cut away the mystery: “I thought you were flirting with me, okay? It’s like you said - the way you said it, the tone, your face, your - your _eyes._ ” Noctis swallowed, glancing down at Gladio’s feet, before circling around and putting his face close to Gladio’s. “But I didn’t understand what you were saying because-”

“Because you weren’t listening for it,” Gladio grumbled, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Because I don’t get the fancy old poetry! And I - I didn’t want to assume.” Noctis balled his fists at his sides. “I just… you’re… you’re you.” He emphatically gestured to Gladio. “You’re… this. Built like... Built like that, and so damn smart... The whole package. I’m a Prince and nobody looks at me like they do you, but you…" Noctis swallowed, and Gladio could see him struggling, balled fists faintly shaking. “I just never know what to say...” He looked Gladio in the eye, expression soft, raw, and vulnerable. “For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.”

Gladio dropped his shoulders, dismissed his proud stance, and opened his eyes and heart to see Noctis, waiting for an answer, as if he’d been waiting for Gladio to ask in the first place all along. 

Gladio took a knee and put both hands on Noctis’ shoulders, and put in as plain words as he could: “There’s nobody else I want to look at. You’re my Prince, my King, and you make me prouder than anyone could, you impress me more than anyone I’ve ever met, and no matter how many people look at me, I’ve only got eyes for you.” He grinned broadly, the light from above setting Noctis aglow and making his whole body warm. “I do love you, more than words can wield the matter.”

He took one of Noctis’ hands in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, but Noctis turned his palm and put his fingers on Gladio’s chin.

“Hey.” Noctis leaned down, smirking, eyes agleam with mischief, and a fire blazed to life in Gladio's heart. “This isn’t the third century.” And with that, he planted his mouth against Gladio’s, sealing their lips in a kiss that could have lasted a century and never been enough.

And with that, all’s well that ends well. 

**Author's Note:**

> The quotes (in their original forms, as a few were modified to suit the situation better) are as follows and from the following of Shakespeare's plays:
> 
> Tempt not a desperate man - Romeo and Juliet
> 
> When you depart from me sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. - Much Ado About Nothing
> 
> She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won - Henry VI
> 
> Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service - The Tempest
> 
> Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar, but do not doubt my love - Hamlet
> 
> Love hath made thee a tame snake - As You Like It
> 
> The stroke of death is as a lovers pinch, Which hurts and is desired - Antony and Cleopatra
> 
> Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make females mad - Midsummer Night’s Dream
> 
> I would not wish any companion in the world but you - The Tempest
> 
> I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee. - Much Ado About Nothing
> 
> Now were I happy, if his going I could frame to serve my turn, save him from danger, do him love and honour - A Winter’s Tale
> 
> Love sought is good, but given unsought is better - Twelfth Night
> 
> The course of true love never did run smooth - A Midsummer Night’s Dream
> 
> For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation - Henry VI
> 
> I do love you more than words can wield the matter. - King Lear


End file.
